Legacy
by Skarrmory
Summary: Unova edges closer and closer to a massive outbreak of the most disturbing crime anyone can commit in the Pokémon world.
1. Chapter 1

"Wow! Mom, look at all the Pokémon!"

Matt's eyes were wide as he and his parents walked up the dirt road that led to the center of the Raymond Pokémon Reserve, a massive and lush collection of vegetation and life found only in the southeastern region of Unova. Dozens of miles behind the traveling family, circling the entire reserve, and only a few feet from them, outlining the dirt road that acted as the reserve's radius, were seven feet tall wooden fences, all of them keeping the people outside of them from stealing any Pokémon, their variety giving them great fame in the secluded region.

They were from Sinnoh, Hoenn, even Kanto and Johto, all of them freely roaming the fields, attending their young, eating, or drinking water. Some of the residents were curiously indulging the coos and petting attempts from the other side of their fences. These Pokémon that were outside were the ones that preferred a more rural habitat, one reminiscent to their lives before capture and one that appealed to their basest instincts.

The Pokémon with more human-level behaviors and the ones that preferred a more sophisticated place to live were making themselves at home in the large complex that lie at the dead-center of the colossal field. That was where Matt and his parents were headed; to adopt a Pokémon from this reserve and to meet the famous owner of the place: Chris Raymond.

The house was a large, marble structure, resembling a big white block with elegant windows and large, thick, wooden doors. That was the only way to get passed the sea of wooden barriers. In the back of the marble manor was the only entrance into the reserve's interior, kept under lock and key by Raymond and a select few employees of the reserve. After what Matt's immature and impatient mind perceived as an excruciating amount of hours, he finally reached the house's unusually large doors. They loomed over anyone considering entrance, though Matt, who was at the still-fearless age of 10, was unfazed by the large, looming doors of the construct and eagerly turned around once he reached the entrance, bouncing up and down, waiting for his parents to catch up. Once they finally made their way up the somewhat rough path, Matt's father grabbed the circular handle on the door's top-center and moved it back and forth on its shiny hinges, firmly rapping it against the dark wood and making a light, but brief, banging noise.

Almost immediately afterwards, the door opened, revealing a kind smile worn by a man in his 20s. He had short, straw-blonde hair that was perfectly combed to sweep to one side, giving him a dashing and suave look. He wore a black suit with aquamarine pinstripes and a matching blue tie, its color as bright and alive as the emotion displayed by the sharply dressed man.

"Aha! And this rambunctious young man must be Matthew," The dashing man firmly shook hands with the boy, who was filled with energy at the sight and sound of such a fun-loving adult. "Or do you prefer Matt?"

The boy grinned and nodded. "Yep! Matt's my name, sir. I'm here to get a Pokémon to start my journey. I wanna beat ALL the Gym Leaders and become the champ!" The boy clenched his fists and jabbed at the air in excitement. The man chuckled and grinned. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Matt. Same goes for your parents." He smiled at the married couple, nodding at each of them. "Sir. Madam."

The two smiled and extended their hands out to the kind man, who firmly shook each one. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Raymond." said the woman with a smile. "We live in Striaton City and, well, if we're near THIS place, why wouldn't we get a Pokémon for Matt here? Especially considering the variety… and where they came from…"

It was true. Chris's reserve was in the large amount of fields punctuated by trees to the west of Nuvema Town and Striaton City. The former had a lab that supplied Unovan starters, but the fact the reserve had Pokémon from other regions, and a HELL of a lot more than 3 Pokémon, people mostly preferred this place over the lab, though many trainers still go to the lab for tradition. Chris had discussed the matter of 'stealing business' with the lab's head scientist, Professor Juniper. She shrugged and actually liked the fact they had less people coming around. It gave them more time to breed and restock on the very rare starters and more breathing room for Juniper's true job. She wanted to make groundbreaking discoveries about the complicated and fascinating species known as Pokémon, not give them away to any 10 year old kid that shows up at the right time.

So, after accepting donations from generous benefactors who remained anonymous to the public, Chris was able to afford shipping Pokémon from all the regions into his reserve, giving them a home to stay. The reason activists Team Plasma had no quarrel with this place was that they weren't being snatched from the wild, but were being taken from abusive trainers, seriously injuring them both physically and mentally. With Juniper's blessings, Team Plasma's silent approval, generous donations, and constant customers, within a year, Chris's reserve flourished and thrived, now a peaceful and secure place filled with benevolent and content employees that take care of the Pokémon, making it a tranquil location for both its inhabitants and its visitors.

And now, today, Chris was focusing on his newest visitor, Matt. He sidestepped to allow them room to walk in and motioned them inside. "Please, do come in. I'll show you to the inside of the reserve and Matt here can pick his new Pokémon." Matt's grin widened at the thought of selecting a new partner and dashed inside, his parents laughing and following behind, admiring the place's interior as soon as they entered. The house's inside was much more lavish than its modest façade. A large, copper chandelier hung from the ceiling, dangling approximately 25 feet above the smooth, polished marble floor of the entrance hall on a golden chain.

The entrance hall's floor was checkered black and white and had two staircases leading to the upper floor of the house, each staircase one of the two aforementioned colors. In between the staircases was an elegant pair of glass doors, each with a light brown, wooden frame. On the other side of the crystal-clear glass, the family could see that many Pokémon that roamed the fields of the reserve. Within its doors, wandering around the massive entrance hall, they could see the many Pokémon that lived indoors, speaking with each other, curling up on the ground to sleep, or in the minority's case, giving their attention to the new faces.

"Woooooow!" was all that Matt could gasp, not only at the interior of this place, but at the many Pokémon that wandered. Immediately, he began his rigorous search, going around and meeting all of the Pokémon there, talking to them, petting them or shaking their hands, whatever it took to evaluate their attitudes and mannerisms.

""Ooh, you look so COOL!" said the youngster at the sight of a Riolu. "And you look pretty strong too!" The Pokémon smirked and nodded, then show off his fists and began playing around with Matt, punching the boy's palms, much like in a boxing match. Matt finally fake-retaliated with a fake-uppercut, causing Riolu to fake-fall down. Matt then yelled "K.O!" in the deepest announcer voice his 10 year old voice could muster.

Matt whirled around and saw a Sandshrew and Zubat conversing, their breed something Matt had never seen before. He eagerly pointed at them and shouted, "Ooooh, Mom, Dad, look at them!"

Matt's parents chuckled at each other and smiled. His mother shouted back, "Don't be so hasty with your decision!"

"I won't!"

Chris chuckled and opened the door to the reserve. "You know, there's an entire outside of this reserve. Perhaps we should go outside first? It's your decision of course."

As Chris was talking, he didn't notice a little Vulpix, about 2 years old, sneaking past the open door, wandering into the luxurious house she'd never seen. Her curiosity was piqued at the sight of the human boy and dashed over to him. She stood on her hind legs and pressed her front legs on his legs, wagging her tails and smiling at him. Matt laughed and bent over, petting the little fox, who responded by rubbing the top of her head against his hand, almost doing the petting for him. The boy smiled and started to scratch her ear, making her even happier and causing her to let out a happy, "Vul!" before licking the boy's hand. The youngster laughed at the tickling gesture and held up the Vulpix before hugging her.

He looked back at his parents and Chris, wearing the biggest grin on his face his parents had ever seen. "Mom, Dad! I think I want to go take on the Gyms with this Vulpix. Can I? Can I, pleeeeeease?"

"You're sure? You know, there's no going back on your decision?" Matt looked down at Vulpix and nodded, adorably doing so at the same time as her. His parents looked at each other and smiled. They looked back at their son and nodded. "If Mr. Raymond is fine with it."

Matt jumped up and down, still holding the Vulpix who was equally happy, understanding perfectly what the two human adults said yes to. The mother turned to Chris and took out from the pocket of her black dress pants a leather wallet, containing a considerable amount of PokéYen in it. "How much is she?"

It took Chris a minute to reply to the woman. He was focusing his attention on the young lad and his Vulpix. They both looked so happy. It was something Chris wished he had at that age. A partner Pokémon, a the seemingly easy but realistically difficult dream of becoming the champion, all of them were aspects Chris couldn't afford as a child. But he only smiled and was thankful that only a few children were so unfortunate.

After a couple seconds of registering the fact that he was asked a question, he turned to face the boy's mother. "Hm? Oh, right. Every Pokémon here costs 6000PY, regardless of species." Chris sighed and scratched his neck, underneath his chin. "I hate charging people to adopt, but we need money in order to feed and manage the Pokémon here."

The women's face was crestfallen. She looked at her husband, who had bit his lip, and looked back. They turned their heads back to Chris. "We… we only have 5000… Please, there must be an exception, a discount, something. Please, Mr. Raymond."

Chris sighed. "I'm sorry, but I don't think there are any that-" Just then, Chris gasped. "That's it! I got it! Our reserve will have a new discount!" He put up his hands as though he were displaying a banner. "And it'll be like this: 'All Pokémon will be 50% off for any child that starts his Pokémon journey with the adopted Pokémon!' It's brilliant!"

He looked over at the parents, who looked utterly speechless, and walked over to them, excitedly shaking their hands. "Thank you! Thank you! This will surely get more Pokémon adopted! AND Matt will absolutely get his Pokémon for 3000PY. No! For giving me the idea, you can take her for absolutely free. It's my treat, a way of saying good luck to the future champ."

Matt's parents were utterly awestruck. Matt, who heard the whole conversation, was delighted and laughed at his good fortune. Before the parents could stutter out a thank you, Chris was already walking towards the two young ones, holding a compact, flat and rectangular device with a small, but thick, glass dome on one end, as well as a screen on its broad side. He crouched down and softly petted the Vulpix on the back of the neck, causing her to purr.

"Stay still for a second." ordered Chris in a low, but soothing voice. The Vulpix nodded and planted her feet on the ground, looking at the glass dome on the handheld contraption. A flickering light started to show within the dome and a white light shown on the once blank screen. On it was the following:

Pokémon Vulpix 223456 detected by sensors. Change Vulpix 223456's Original Trainer?

[ ] Yes [ ] No

Chris smiled and petted the Vulpix on the head. "Okay, you can go back to playing now." The Vulpix happily chimed her name and ran back to play with Matt. He pressed the "[ ]" that was next to the yes on the touch-sensitive screen, causing the device to whir and beep in response, and then creating a new message:

Is this Vulpix 223456 being released or obtaining a new Original Trainer?

[ ] Released [ ] New OT [ ] Undo previous action

Chris pressed the center button, instantly causing the stream to display a new message:

Please display gamer card near re-router's scanner and press 'Start' to transfer Vulpix 223456.

[ ] Start

Chris walked up to Matt's parents and smiled at them. "The transfer's almost done. Vulpix no longer belongs to me. I just need Matt's trainer card and she'll be all his." The parents smiled at one another, then at Matt and handed Chris the child's card. He placed it right in front of the small glass dome and finally pressed "[ ] Start" on the screen.

After a few minutes of processing, the device flashed and ringed a victorious tone from its speakers. The large words, "Process complete! Congratulations, Trainer ID 85732! You now own Vulpix 223456!" were brightly displayed on the screen. Chris smiled and turned off the device, then putting it in his pocket. He turned to the adorable pair and crouched down so that he could be eye-level with them.

"Well, Matt," he began, a huge grin on his face, "that Vulpix is now yours. All that's left is giving her a name, if you want her to have one, that is."

"Oh, I definitely want to name her!" Matt eagerly said. He scratched his chin and stared off into space, thinking. After a few minutes of pensive silence, the child turned to Chris. "Mr. Raymond, I want YOU to name her. Can you? Can you, pleeeeeease?"

At first, Chris was surprised at such an offer, but his surprise turned into happiness towards the notion. He smiled. "Sure, Matt. It'd be an honor. Now… let's see…" He looked at the Vulpix, who was staring back with a content and excited shine in her eyes. After a minute of thought, Chris asked, "How do you like the name Kegan?"

"Vul!" was the excited reply of the little Pokémon, happily licking Chris's face for coming up with a quality name for her. She looked over at Matt, who picked her up and rubbed his nose against hers. "We're gonna be best friends, ya know that, Kegan? You and me, we're gonna take on Adeku and become the best of the best!"

Kegan replied with a squeal of her species' name. Chris turned to see Matt's parents approaching him, giving him an almost overwhelming handshake. "M-Mr. Raymond, you have no idea how grateful we are." stuttered the father. "You are a VERY generous man."

Chris chuckled and shook his head. "No, no, helping a child get started on his Pokémon journey shouldn't require something worth praise. If anyone else were in my position, they'd do the same. Besides…" Chris raised an eyebrow and enlarged his grin. "Instead of thanking me and shaking my hand, you ought to hightail it back to your home and prepare Matt and Kegan for their new, life-changing adventure. Nothing's more terrifying than a child that's told to wait for something, after all."

The two adults burst out laughing and nodded. "Oh, trust me, Mr. Raymond, we know that more than anyone here! But you're right, we should be going. Thank you so much for your help." The wife tilted her head and asked, "Umm, isn't there paperwork we need to sign?"

Chris dismissively put his hand up and nodded. "Yes, yes, adoption comes with many semantics. But we can do all of that tomorrow. For now, let Matt enjoy the moment. The paperwork will take a while to do and I don't want to hold him up. You can come here by yourselves and do it tomorrow. Heck," Chris grinned, "maybe I could tell you guys a little bit about the reserve."

The Dad smiled and nodded. "I think that'd be great Mr. Raymond. We look forward to it." He turned and called, "Matt! Kegan! It's time to go back home!"

"'Kay, Dad!" was shouted back as the young man sprinted back, Kegan following close behind. They were both panting, but happy as can be. Afterward, the three said their goodbyes and thanked him yet again for the surprise, free Pokémon. After they closed the large, brown doors behind them, Chris loudly clapped his hands to get the attention of all the Pokémon in the house. "Alright! The reserve's closed, so you can go back to your chambers now, if you want. Feel free to roam the reserve if you want. Just try and not make much noise and try to behave. I'd rather not have my time off interrupted by fights. If you have a problem, come ask me."

One by one, the Pokémon shuffled to their destinations of choice, some going upstairs to the more stubborn Pokémon that refused to sleep like wild ones, some going outside to socialize with the other Pokémon in the reserve. Once Chris had made sure everyone had left the entrance hall, he sighed and walked up towards the door, only to be interrupted by the sounds of footsteps tapping on the marble steps of the staircase.

Chris looked over to see a Mawile happily hopped down the black staircase to the right of the reserve entrance. Once she reached ground-level, she quickly ran towards Chris and jumped into his arms. Chris laughed. "Slept late again?" He chuckled and scratched her ears. "You just missed the guests we had. For someone so energetic, you sure as hell sleep a lot."

She stuck her tongue out and grabbed the man's hair, taking it off and showing jet black hair; a stark contrast to the fake, blond hair that covered it. It was very short, only a few inches longer than a buzzcut and was quite messy, due to being underneath a wig for the entire day, which was practically over- or, at least, his reserve's hours were. The Mawile started to giggle at Chris's messed up hair, then started to laugh out loud at it, Chris angrily blushing as she did so.

"Laugh it up, fuzzball." Chris clenched his fist and started to rub his knuckles against the top of the Mawile's head, causing her to laugh even harder. "It's hard wearing a wig, you know." The Mawile's laughter simmered down back into giggling before stopping completely. Chris got up from his crouched position and walked off to the reserve's exit, or at least it seemed that way. Once he was in front of the entrance, he immediately turned right and faced the black staircase. On its side was a triangular door, the same color as its staircase, sleek and smooth like the rest of the house.

Chris pulled out a ring of keys that were used for various things: the reserve entrance, upstairs, front door, and lastly, here. With a quick turn and a click, the door opened, showing a dimly lit closet. In the center was a hole with a ladder in it. Chris and the Mawile, in that order, climbed down it, the light that surrounded them getting brighter and a more defined shade of yellow as they descended.

When they reached the bottom of the ladder and touched down on the ground, the two found themselves in a stone corridor with bell-shaped lamps placed in many locations amongst the two walls and engorging it in light so efficiently that one wouldn't guess that they were underground. The two walked off into the hall, an odd sound faintly getting into earshot, somewhat sounding like the rustling of chains. Normally, this sound would have spooked whoever may have heard it, but Chris and Mawile already knew what it was and let off an air of anticipation as they quickened their pace towards the sound.

At last, the two reached the entrance of the sound's source: a thin, faded and wooden door latched onto the door by two meager, black hinges. Chris reached the door first, stopping directly in front of it and straightening out his suit's coat and tie. Mawile shortly followed just behind, looking up at Chris as he dusted himself off, giggling at him.

Chris rolled his eyes and opened the door, revealing a man fettered to a chair, several thick sets of chains wrapping around his torso and one thin chain wrapping his legs to the chair's legs. The man had brown hair that was now a total mess, blood trickling down the right side of his forehead, coming from what seemed to be a blow to his head, one that was dangerously close to his temple. His clothes were a stark contrast from the seriousness of his injury and captivity; shredded by cuts and slashes, he wore what looked like a not-so-masculine bathrobe, likely because he was taken late at night before or during bed. Were the situation not so grim, Chris and Mawile definitely would've laughed at the man's frivolous appearance.

The man's mouth wasn't covered, but he stood there speechless at the sight of his sharply dressed and adorable torturers. His mouth was agape and his eyes were wide as he shook and thought of the millions of ways this day would end, most of them not looking bright. Finally, he managed to choke out a question and every time, Chris noticed, the first question was always the same. "Wh-where am I?"

Chris smiled and straightened his tie again, casually walking towards the man, a spring in his step. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that. There's always a chance of you escaping, though it is a small one, and I'd you rather not know in case that happens." Chris shrugged casually. "Professional stuff, you understand."

The man's head shot up to look at Chris. He squinted his eyes, both as a sign of focus and of attempting to remember. Suddenly, it dawned on him. "You… I've heard your voice before, somewhere on the news, I think… yeah, and I saw your face too. You're that Raymond guy, th-the one with the Pokémon reserve. Wh-… why are you doing this to me? Wh-why am I here?"

"I dunno." Chris shrugged and turned around to find a beige folder on an old, wooden crate sitting near the door. "Let's check your file, shall we?" He picked up the folder and turned around to walk back to his prisoner. As he walked, he began reading the file. When he reached the beaten man, he cleared his throat and started to read aloud the file's contents.

"Let's see here… 'Name: Mr. Joseph Kingsley; Age: 38; Sex: Male; Wealthy oil tycoon that's only a few positions under Clay the Gym Leader in the company known as 'Sandslash Oil Mining.'" Chris looked over at Joe and nodded. "Very nice. Successful life, no doubt very luxurious. But, that part of your file isn't why you're here." Chris began to pace around the room, Joe rotating his head to keep him in his vision. "You see, Mr. Kingsley, a few months ago, back when this reserve only had a few Pokémon, I received a very odd gift from the criminal organization, Team Plasma: a pregnant Zoroark with two Zorua pups." Chris walked up to the man and leaned in, looking him in the eye. "Sound familiar?"

Joe angrily glared at Chris, shaking his head. "I don't know what you're talking about." Chris smiled and petted him on the head.

"Right, of course you don't." Chris turned around and continued his pacing, the file still in his right hand. His Mawile was leaning against one side of the frame, waiting for something. "Then of course, this file must be wrong. Because it says here, and I quote, 'brutally raped a Zoroark that was in his possession over the course of 3 years, impregnating her 3 times.'" Chris laughed lightly and looked over at Joe again. "Adds up, doesn't it, Mr. Kingsley?"

"I don't know nothin' about no Zoroark." Joe said, his teeth grinding.

"Oh?" Chris mused, his grin getting wider. "Zoroark said otherwise. As does this here file. You see, Mr. Kingsley, when I got word of Team Plasma – that's who bagged, you by the way – that they found the man who raped the Zoroark they found almost a year ago, I decided to ask for his name and talk with Zoroark and hear it from her myself. When I heard the name matched, I accepted their generous offer." Chris's prisoner had no response. Chris gave him a pat on the back. "Oh, don't be so down on yourself. At least you taught her English, right? That's always a plus, unless of course… you didn't do it for her benefit. You only did it for yourself."

Joe's head was still looking down. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Chris kneeled next to him and yanked Joe's hair, causing his ears to be right next to Chris's lips. He muttered so softly, almost like a smooth vibration that sounded like words. It was a deep and accusing whisper. "Maybe you meant to rape her all those times, maybe it was a nice bonus, eh? You… liked her protests, her screaming for you to not do it. Her whimpering, her crying, her pleading; you wanted to hear it, to know exactly what she was saying. Didn't you? All those times she told you, begged you to stop, it just made you more excited and kept you going. Right?"

The oil tycoon said nothing. Chris continued. "Oooh, I can imagine it now. You spending all that time teaching her to speak English. How she must have trusted you. How she must've thought that you were the kindest human in the world for doing something so selfless. And all the while, you were counting down the lessons, the minutes, the seconds until you could finally use it all for YOUR selfish desires. For YOUR lust. For YOUR benefit." Chris stood back up and walked around Joe so that he was right in front of him. In one motion, he pulled out a bowie knife he had in his pocket and slashed Joe on his brow, barely missing his eyes. Joe howled in pain, to which Chris replied with a slash across his cheek. Chris got on his knees and leaned in.

"Shut up and listen, Joey. You, my friend, you're gonna be here for a while. Lily and me," he motioned toward the Mawile with his knife hand when he said her name, "we're gonna take our time on you. You see, Zoroark, who I call Romi, by the way, is fine now. Or at least, fine as she can be. I say that because she will never be normal again. Not after what you did. Ya see, rape isn't some romantic accessory that synergizes your romantic fantasy. It isn't some type of pornography, and it isn't a fetish. It's rape. It's stealing one's innocence, making them think they're worth nothing. When you rape someone, you do more than kill them. You destroy them and let them relish in the aftermath."

His shaking got even more intense when his head shot up and looked at Chris, his eyes were red from crying. "P-please! Mr. Raymond, don't do this. Don't kill me, please God, don't kill me. I-I didn't MEAN to, I… I was just so… it was so… I don't… please…" He deliriously shook his head. "Don't do this to me."

"'Please… don't do this to me.'… I wonder how many times Zoroark said that to you. How many times she begged you to stop, or, better yet…" Chris glared daggers at his captive, "… how many times you didn't listen."

"M-Mr. Raymond, please this won't justify anything! Th-this'll onl-"

"You keep calling me Mr. Raymond…" Chris frowned and pointed his knife at Joe's neck, lightly pressing its tip against his Adam's apple. Joe didn't dare move and froze on the spot the minute the motion was made. "Please, call me Jeff."


	2. Chapter 2

Hey guys. I'm really sorry for the long wait. I actually gave some people the impression that Legacy would only have one chapter, lol. Trust me, it's just the opposite. Legacy will be much lengthier and have more chapters than Saffron, especially since Saffron was only written as a prank on a friend of mine. There'll be plenty of murder to go around I assure you. Also, I just wanna say thanks to every one of you guys (even the dude that commented with a Dutch Harry Potter fic). I really appreciate you guys and your positive feedback, especially since a lot of it isn't "OMG KILLING POKÉPHILES! AWESOME!111!" Seriously. Every goddamned one of you are awesome. Last announcement is that I'm really sorry for making such a lengthy chapter and even MORE sorry that 85% of it's boring. So… enjoy if you can, lol.

Several hundred thousand tiny rays of light penetrated Jeff's window and hit him square in the eyes as the morning sun slowly and drowsily rose from the green horizon of his reserve. With a little "Nnngh", he sat up from his bed and stretched his arms out, yawning quietly for the sake of who was still sleeping soundly next to him.

Jeff looked over and smiled at his Mawile, Lily, who was clinging to her pillow and silently sleeping, save for a few adorable snorts punctuating the soundless movements of her inhaling and exhaling. Jeff grinned and pulled their blanket over her before getting off of the bed and putting on his Sunday clothing – a black t-shirt with jeans. He also took with him a bowler hat to block out the sun. Now he was no longer Jeff. He was Chris again. For now.

Walking through the hallway that led to the entrance hall, Chris encountered a few of the many Pokémon that preferred to live in a house. It was still early in the morning, approximately 8 o' clock in the morning, yielding only a small, drowsy amount of Pokémon, yawning and sleepily greeting one another as they went to their rooms of leisure that Chris had created for them.

Despite its seemingly small size, the complex was actually very large, even though it only had two floors. On the top floor, several rows of bedrooms were neatly placed at the floor's forefront. In their west and east wings were many living rooms and recreation rooms that had sparring rings, televisions and even videogames for the Pokémon's entertainment.

Chris finally reached the door to the entrance hall and peaked out to the other side – no one, save a few early birds that were getting themselves breakfast – was stirring. He smiled and walked off to the glass doors that led to the reserve, petting and waving at the manor's inhabitants as he went.

When he looked outside, Chris found that the outside was much different from the reserve's interior. Apparently, it had rained quite heavily that night, for the usually bright green grass of the fields were darkened and saturated by the water of a massive downpour. The Insect Pokémon relished the dampness and were found rolling around, making squishing noises and acting happy as could be. Chris couldn't help but laugh out loud when he saw a group of Sewaddle that were native to Unova and Weedle from the reserve form a truce, rolling in a muddy, shallow puddle in perfect harmony.

The casually dressed blonde turned from the humorous sight and saw one of his employees, a girl by the name of Jane, approaching him, waving and cheerily saying, "Morning, boss!"

Chris smiled and returned the greeting. "Morning, Jane. So, how are things this morning?"

"Good," Jane grinned, "especially 'cause of the rain. Bug, Grass and Water Pokémon are lovin' it! Fire Pokémon are a bit sulky about it, but a couple hours glooming around underneath the trees and they'll be back to normal."

"Sounds good." Chris nodded. He then clapped his hands once and kept them joined, then turning to face his worker. "It's good to see you're looking after the Pokémon here. Especially at your age, Nana."

Jane gave him a confused look. "What did you call me? Nana? But. My name's Jane, boss. I thought you knew that."

"Oh, I do," Chris nodded again, this time walking towards Jane – or Nana, "and I'd believe you too if Jane hadn't told me yesterday that she needed a week's vacation to take care of her grandma over in Castelia City."

Jane gulped and tried to stutter out a rebuttal, but it was too late. Chris was standing right next to her and leaned over to find a black, fluffy tail poking out of her jeans. He sighed and grabbed the tail, causing the woman to yelp. With a quick yank, the young lady became a silhouette of bright purple before morphing into a small, dark-gray and crimson fox: a Zorua.

"Maaaan," said Nana in a whiny, but somewhat sweet voice, "I thought I had you too. Damned Jane and her damned vacations…"

"Hey!" Chris grabbed her by the scruff and picked her up so that she was staring him in the face. "Watch your mouth, young lady! What if Romi heard you talking like that?"

"Heehee." Nana grinned. "She'd probably kick my ass."

Chris sighed and set her down on his left shoulder – he reserved his right shoulder for Lily alone – and began to walk off towards Nana's home, a nest in the reserve. "Where'd you even learn words like that?"

"Humans passing by the reserve fences. Usually kids and teenagers."

"You've been getting near humans?"

Nana's eyes widened and her mouth formed a puppy-dog's pout. She then said, in a voice that very well could've caused diabetes, "I'm so sowwy, Mistew Waymond! I know you told me about those icky-wicky humans and how they'we just a bunch of meanies that say filthy things like 'dang' and 'heck' all the time, but I was just so cuwious, I couldn't help it!"

"Oh, for the love of God…" Chris pinched the skin on the middle of his forehead and cringed, "Stop, please, you're nauseating me."

Nana's face turned serious and she frowned, returning back to her normal voice with the right amount of childishness. "And that's exactly how I felt when you said that to me."

Chris looked away and muttered. "I did not say it like that…" Quickly, he turned his head back to Nana and changed the subject. "So, more importantly, what exactly were you up to? If you got up this early to pull a prank on me, then I'm both flattered and deeply disturbed."

"I was actually checking on the Pokémon, like I said." The Zorua rolled her eyes and smirked. "Don't give yourself so much credit."

Chris slumped at the second part of her alibi. She acted like such a teenager, which was expected of Zorua, seeing as they evolve instantly to their adult form. Looking like such sweet, childish cubs while acting sarcastic and mischievous was in itself one of Zorua's family's many illusions.

Finally, they reached Nana's home. It was a massive, hollowed out tree trunk without a single bit of moss on it. On its side was a large hole acting as an entrance and in it, sleeping soundly, was a fully grown, female Zoroark. Poking its head out of the sleeping matriarch's mane was a tiny Zorua, Nana's baby brother. Chris quietly crouched down next to Nana's mother – who allowed Chris to name her "Romi" – and set her child down easily.

Despite his efforts to keep quiet, Romi's eyes shot open the minute Nana's feet touched the ground and in an instant, she turned around, retracted her claws, folded her ears back and showed her teeth at the possibility of an intruder. When she noticed that it was Chris – who was scared shitless for obvious reasons – she calmed down and blushed at her feral behavior.

"Sorry. I keep forgetting that-"

"It's fine." Chris said, wiping sweat off of his brow. "I'm just here to bring back Nana. She was sneaking around, impersonating my staff again."

Romi looked down at her daughter and grimaced. "Was she, now?" Nana replied only with a nervous smile and laugh.

"However," Chris continued. "I was on my way here regardless to remind you that it's Sunday, which means your weekly examination's today."

"Oh, right." Romi said in a very unexcited tone, "I'll be with you in a minute. Just let me talk to Nana for a quick minute."

Chris nodded and turned around, starting to walk to his car, which was quite a ways away, sitting next to his house. He knew that Romi wouldn't take long and would've caught up quickly. Zoroark weren't exactly an out of shape species of Pokémon. As Chris started to walk away, Romi turned to Nana, who was already prepared for the lecture she was almost certain she was going to get. "Don't pull pranks on people, Nana", "How would you like it if someone did that to you, Nana?", or "Why can't you be like your baby brother, Nana?" She had heard it all so many times, and she had already mentally prepared her responses to each line when her mother said something she hadn't heard before.

"Take care of your little brother while I'm gone, Nana. Make sure he doesn't get mixed up in anything involving the larger Pokémon here. Also, if someone tries to take or hurt him, you have my permission to bite his arm off." Romi smirked. "Just don't use that as an excuse to bite someone you don't like."

"That's it?" Nana asked, utterly confused. "No lectures about how I shouldn't pull pranks on people? I'm off the hook?"

"Well, it's quite obvious they never work. So, I think I'll try giving you more responsibilities as a punishment." Romi was still smiling as she said this, but her face grew solemn afterwards. "But, in all seriousness, please protect your brother while I'm gone."

Nana nodded. "Sure, Mama. I'll look after him." A smiled crept back on Romi's face as she ruffled the hair on Nana's head. After playing around, Romi picked her son out of her hair with one claw and dropped his small body onto Nana's back.

"Thank you, Nana. You're a good kid. Despite what you may think." And with that, Romi turned around to dash off after Chris, catching up with him in a matter of minutes. Nana looked up at her little brother, who was still sleeping, despite having been picked up and moved.

Nana smiled and laid down on the ground, curling up into a ball, her significantly smaller brother using her as a pillow without him knowing it. Before she put her head down, she looked over at Romi, who was still on her way to the house with Chris. She whispered to herself, "I love you too, Mama." and fell asleep.

… … …

"Alright, just lie still and relax."

Romi followed the clean-cut doctor's orders and laid down on the sterile, white and very firm bed for her ultrasound testing. The doctor set up the machine and hooked it up to the computer screen to Romi's left. Chris was standing off to the side, hands in his pockets, hiding the small amount of anxiety he felt. Last visit they had a few weeks ago, the doctor said that the baby was a quite small, even for an infant. Both he and Romi hoped that it would improve over time and the wait was killing them.

"I apologize," said the doctor, bowing his head, "it takes a few minutes for the machine to change the sound waves into light waves."

Chris nodded and turned back to the screen. After a couple of minutes, the screen had flicked on and a small blob of a fetus could be seen in the grainy, gray image. It was significantly larger than the last time they had a sneak preview of the little one, though they weren't sure if that was just development or recovery from his previous, small stature. It was more developed too; even Chris's untrained eyes could spot little stubs one the bottom of the fetus that acted as its four, teeny legs, as well as two stubs on its small head that acted as its premature legs.

The doctor looked down at his clipboard, then looked back up at the screen and then looked back down again, this time writing down a few scribbles. This process repeated several times and it almost angered Romi and Chris that his expression was completely stoic the entire time. No visible traces of good or bad news, or at least not until he raised his head. The two visitors' annoyance and anxiety were completely relieved when they saw his smiling face looking back at them. And it was even more alleviated when they heard the specifics.

"Luckily for you two," the doctor beamed, "the fetus's growth has far outreached the expected growth and I'm very happy to tell you that his size has become perfectly normal. All of his vitals are fine." The doctor grinned and nodded. "He'll be a perfectly healthy pup. A boy, too."

Romi had the biggest smile on her face at the news while Chris smirked, hands in his pocket. His cool response didn't mean he wasn't thrilled at the news. Just that he was more pensive about it. What fate would await the three pups? Romi staying at the reserve and raising her children until they were well enough to raise themselves was an already accepted option. But what about her children? How would they fare within adoption?

Should Chris mention them to customers often and try to get them adopted quickly? The part of him that promised Romi that her children would find kind trainers to take care of them said yes. But the selfish side of him, the one that wanted them to grow up here, at the reserve with him and Lily, as some sort of surrogate nieces and nephews, almost wanted them hidden from his clients.

Chris shook his head and phased back into reality. Romi had already had all the equipment taken off of her and was thanking the doctor as kindly and happily her condition would allow. The doctor blushed at the flattery and said it was nothing and that Romi should calm down, which had finally been heeded after a few minutes of over-excitement. Chris lengthened his smile as he pushed the thoughts of what to do out of his mind; he'd have the debate later, but for now, it was a happy moment; sulking around and thinking would not be the proper way to handle it.

When Chris and Romi returned from the nearby clinic, they instantly relayed the news to Nana and her little brother, Zidane. They were ecstatic to hear that their future brother was doing well and kept jumping up and down, squeeing that they should party over it. Chris, despite wanting to stay and celebrate, said that he had to go back to the manor. Nana protested, but Chris would have none of it.

"I have to work out the adoption paperwork with the humans that stopped by yesterday." Chris said firmly. When he saw Romi's look of disappointment and Zidane and Nana's crestfallen expressions afterward, he smiled. "But hey, we can still celebrate tomorrow. I'll make up for lost time with a little extra surprise." He winked. "Promise."

Leaving the family happy as he left, Chris found himself back in his manor, patiently sitting a large, plush chair in the entrance hall. At approximately 3 o' clock, he heard a rap on the door, one that was exactly the same as the one from yesterday; they were here, or at least the father was.

When he opened the door, he found Matt's parents standing in much more casual attire. The husband, who introduced himself as Murray, wore a black, collared shirt with small, white stripes and jeans. His hair was still swept back into a clean wave, meaning that it must have been his normal hairstyle. His wife, shaking Chris's hand and saying the name "Linda", wore a simple dress, gray and black in color. Her hair, which was styled to be long and straight the day before, was now hanging behind her head in a much less lengthy ponytail.

"Welcome!" Chris said, a dazzling smile creeping onto his face. After a year of speaking with people, Chris had developed a keen talent for speaking with and almost wooing his customers. For the sake of the Pokémon he took care of, he went to a great extent to make sure that not only were they given homes quickly, but also were they given homes that would never have the probability of reiterating past signs of indecency within the human race.

As he spoke with his current clients, he repeated the process he had for all customers. With his honed, exuberant smile, he'd make small-talk and laugh and make hand motions with the Average Joes and aristocrats alike, or at least on the surface, that's what he seemed to do. In his subconscious, he was testing them. He was seeing if they would ever even think of abusing Kegan, or any Pokémon for that matter. When learning to socialize, Chris was amazed at how much one could learn about a person via smalltalk. It was a cleverly disguised espionage and in his months of practice, Chris Raymond had mastered it.

As the father leaned over to write on the dwarf wooden desk that the paperwork was on, Chris leaned against the post at the front of the stairway, flashing a smile that had won over so many adopters. He made jokes, he chatted about the news. Every time he chimed with his calm voice, a lively response always followed.

When the paperwork was over, Chris, who had already determined that the couple and their child were in no way potentially harmful, opened the door to the reserve's interior and motioned them out. "I hope the offer I made yesterday has a different answer than it did originally."

Murray smiled and nodded. "It hasn't, Mr. Raymond, don't worry. Linda and I have actually never seen any non-Unovan Pokémon." Linda wrapped her arms around her husband and nodded in confirmation. Afterward, however, she frowned.

"We don't have much time, however. Matthew's at school now and'll be out in a little over an hour."

"Welp," Chris began and casually strolled out, "in that case, we got a lot of ground to cover."

The three casually dressed adults explored every bit of the reserve that they could within the small frame of time they had. Chris pointed out and explained the workings of each Pokémon they saw. He mentioned the oddity that was the mating habits of the Nido families, how their differing genders changed a plethora of traits and behaviors, and how Nidoqueen were unable to breed. He excitedly broke down the cause of Eevee's evolutionary flexibility – well known in every other region, but a pure myth in Unova – and how it startlingly adapts to its environment so quickly.

The downside of the whole tour that Chris gave was that the big question was always eventually asked.

"Mr. Raymond, where do you get all these Pokémon?" was randomly spouted by Murray after Chris (somewhat embarrassedly) claimed Glaceon as his favorite relative to Eevee. Chris looked at him solemnly, but didn't have nearly the right amount of solemnity that the true origin of his specimens deserved.

"We 'rescue' these Pokémon. There are a lot of people in Unova – more people than the public realizes – that abuses Pokémon in… many different ways. Physical, mental, emotional… even sexual. We get all of that here. After the rescued Pokémon gets sent to rehabilitation centers in hospitals, they either get sent back to the wild or, if they're too used to human-nurturing, here."

"S-sexual abuse?" Linda's mouth was agape after repeating the phrase in a questioning tone.

Chris closed his eyes and glumly nodded. "Yeah. Hell… some of our cases actually got impregnated by the assailant by the time we got to them." He clenched his fists and imagined the face of the wealthy man Jeff maimed yesterday. He felt slight satisfaction that Jeff killed him, anger within the knowledge that it wouldn't change anything, and frustration at the fact that he couldn't do anything more about it.

While Chris was thinking about all of this, Linda asked him a question he almost missed while in thought. "But, aren't humans unable to breed with Pokémon?"

Chris opened his eyes and returned to normal – at least, one that wasn't thinking of murder and one that was instead sad about his Pokémon. He looked over at Linda and sheepishly shook his head. "That's a common misconception. Humans actually have an egg group that applies to all Pokémon that can breed. Magne-…"

Chris stopped and thought of an example they'd be familiar with. "Ummm, I mean Golet, for example, can't have children with humans just like it can't with any other Pokémon, unlike Ditto. As far as offspring go, it'll be the same species as the mother, just like normal breeding. Human mothers get human babies and Pokémon mothers get Pokémon babies."

"That's terrible…" Murray said. He also clenched his fists in anger, muttering. "I wish I could meet one of these fuckin' misfits… I swear, if they lay a damned finger on MY son's Pokémon, I'm gonna beat the living shit out of them…"

Before Linda could calm him down, Murray's phone rang. It was the alarm that he set beforehand telling him it was time to go. The couple hurriedly bowed and said their gratuitous goodbyes, then promptly left. Chris waved off and smiled, glad he could meet two nice people. He found it almost comical. He was worried about them being abusive to Pokémon when they didn't even know Pokémon were sexually abused. He shrugged. Better safe than sorry.

For the next few hours, Chris sat in his comfortable chair, cuddling with Lily while the two were reading a book about the many Gym Leaders scattered across the region. After a while, Chris got bored with reading and decided to toy with Lily, softly rubbing her shoulders and leaning down to kiss her neck. Lily smiled while blushing and playfully pushed him away. Suddenly, amidst their alone-time, there was a rapid knock on the door. Chris grumbled to himself at the sound of the interruption. He kissed Lily on the cheek and promised she wouldn't get off so easily, which was responded to with a kiss on the cheek of her own and a quick climb onto his right shoulder.

Chris trudged to the door, trying to ready his hasty, but polite, way of telling his visitor to leave as soon as possible. When he opened the door, however, this method instantly melted away. Standing in a straightened, almost saluting position, a man in a trenchcoat and fedora looked back at him with an almost afraid sense of solemn deference. His trenchcoat was open, and at its center was the logo of the group, Team Plasma.

Jeff instantly frowned. "I thought Ghetsis knew that Sundays are my days of relaxation."

"Apologies, Mr. Baird." the grunt frowned. "H-however, both Lord Ghetsis and Lord N have both agreed that this is a very important exception. You have a new assignment."

Jeff exhaled and nodded. "Fine. So, who's the unlucky sap this time?"

Though his nervousness didn't leave him, the grunt grinned maliciously. Almost chuckling to himself, he muttered happily, "A very important sap, Mr. Baird. A Gym Leader."


	3. Chapter 3

_OKAY. So, how long has it been? Two months, three? I'm really sorry, guys. Had a bunch of sit go on IRL, both personally and scholastically. Fortunately, it's Summer Break and my pals at Ficfags Anonymous are giving me a big, friendly kick in the ass in order to write more often, so big hiatuses like that shouldn't happen again for a WHILE. In any case, I decided to skip all the pre-going-to-Castelia stuff so I could make up for my absence with a huge, action-packed chapter. Enjoy!_

Jeff plopped onto the ground of the hotel roof and crossed his legs, leaning over the railing of the almost comically tall building, focusing on a large, neon-covered building across the street. It didn't dwarf the other buildings in the city, but it definitely stood out, its lavender color giving it the appearance of a flamboyant blemish on the city's already filthy skin. Not taking his attention away from the building, he reached behind him and slid his hand into his small suitcase, fishing out a pair of binoculars. With a quiet grunt, he lightly pushed its posterior against his face, securing it within his brow and cheekbone, and observed the building. Almost instantly, his heart lurched at the sight of the colossal, neon monstrosity. His eyes narrowed in pain – not visual, but mental – at the sight of the large, bright purple letters.

BURGH'S

BUG-GRASS

SEXETORIUM

A shiver slipped down his spine as he quickly looked to the real reason he was up here: surveillance. He looked down at the large, two-door entryway. The doors were left wide open as workers, both muscular humans and large behemoths known as Conkledurr, moved in and out, carrying posh furniture, most of them being in a sickeningly feminine purple. Leaning against the building's front wall, overseeing the workers was the man of the hour himself: Burgh. Jeff's grimace quickly turned into a hungry glare. His pupils dilated and his narrow eyes widened and became glazed in an almost entranced gaze. He had found his prey. Jeff could hardly contain his happiness at the sight of his target. He was so feeble! Skinny arms, skinny legs and best of all, a skinny neck, clearly on display, not hidden by clothing or hair. Perfect for easily breaking or easily swiping at with a knife. How easy this would be! Jeff decided to measure the marked man's movements. His head moved along with the workers, but didn't quite catch up. He seemed to lazily, almost dreamily move it from side to side as the workers entered and exited. He was distracted, lost in thought, no doubt because of his grand unveiling of the building. It was, after all, destined to be the new Poképhile hotspot, its size, number of patrons and number of attendees fivefold those of the Gray Zangoose. It would make Castelia City the capital of Poképhilia, and in the future, make the entirety of Unova the capital of Poképhilia. Team Plasma would not allow it. Jeff would not allow it. Not while he has anything to do about it.

He reached back into his suitcase, this time withdrawing a sketchbook and a pencil. He flipped it open to the first page, the rest of it being blank and looked back between it and Burgh's new gentlemen's club. The first page of the sketchbook had incomplete, hand-drawn schematics of the building. He then kicked off a cycle of glancing at the building and lightly sketching the outlines and details of the building's front and what he could see of its sides. After about an hour of this process, he finished the details that he could recreate with his current, limited view, he stretched his arms out and groaned at the tedious nature of his task. He never had much of an affinity for drawing, let alone sketching the detailed appearance of a building. But, as he lie down and stared at the clouded sky, he began thinking of the fruits of his labor. He closed his eyes and smirked, picturing Burgh's fragile body broken and on the floor, crimson mingling with light green and orange, a terrific blend of color. Jeff chuckled to himself: ironic that whilst killing the artist, he himself would create his greatest work of art. For several hours, he lie there, eyes closed, reveling in the cool climate of the city. It was summer, and normally it would've been torturously hot, but the sky was cascaded with thin, but numerous gray clouds lazily drifting across its palette. The sun was almost always covered and a dark shroud of shade seemed to permanently lay atop the metropolis, decrementing its normally excruciating temperature. Though it was only for half an hour, Jeff's relaxation, in his mind, seemed to last almost twenty times as long. He relished in the downtime he so rarely got and basked in the perfect climate of the city until he felt two hands covering his eyes. He opened them, seeing absolutely nothing as he expected, and tried to pry them off of his face with force, but the hand was far too strong for him to handle.

"Saaabe…" whispered the raspy voice in an oddly sing-song tone. Jeff sighed.

"Let me guess… Sid?" Jeff regained his vision, his first sight being an ecstatic Sableye, dancing childishly and cackling insanely, obviously elated that Jeff indulged in his little game. The energetic goblin was named Obsidian or Sid for short, and was caught by Team Plasma and handed to him as a gift. Even though he didn't catch him, Jeff was really the first human Sid had ever come into personal contact with and the latter quickly became attached, pulling juvenile acts and playing silly games with his trainer, whether they were busy with their mission or not being an unimportant factor.

"Yes, that was a very fun game, Sid." Jeff said, trying desperately to fake enthusiasm. "But please tell me you completed your mission?"

Sid stopped his antics and diligently gave a salute to his trainer. With a small twitch of his body, the creature's eyes began to glow a bright aqua and in a flash, a projection of what seemed like a Ferris wheel. Jeff rolled his eyes. "Sid… " He said in a very sweet tone, trying to mask his annoyance. "I didn't ask you to perform reconnaissance on the amusement park in Nimbasa City. We aren't even IN Nimbasa City."

Sableye nodded frantically, rapidly saying his name and raised his arms in a fashion akin to a salesman pitching a business proposal which, despite the situation, made Jeff genuinely grin. After quickly sputtering out a sentence in that stereotypical goblin-esque voice he teleported around the rooftop, a light blue blink of light preceding his leave and return of reality. After his little show, he looked at his trainer in a toothy, but benign grin. Though he had no eyelids, Jeff was almost certain that if he did, they would be wide-eyed, like a human child begging his mother or father to go to the amusement park. Jeff chuckled and kneeled down, scratching the goblin's head, which was surprisingly smooth and firm, akin to the surface of a jewel. Though he was trying at times, Jeff adored Sid's childish behavior within the two weeks that he's known him so far whilst temporarily residing in Castelia. Even his pranks had an almost childish touch to them.

As Jeff felt his firm, yet smooth skin getting affectionately rubbed against his hand, he realized that deep down he really wished he COULD go to the amusement park in Nimbasa. He wished he COULD just toss this sketchbook and binoculars into the trashcan in the hotel's lobby. He wished he COULD give the reserve to someone else, take himself, Lily, Sid, Romi, Nana and Zidane and go somewhere, anywhere else to settle down and simply live a simple life. It was in that moment, in that childish gleam of wanting in Sid's eyes that Jeff realized it. In the end, he despised his job.

He was grateful to Ghetsis for saving him and always enjoyed the fact that he was helping abused Pokémon in their time of need, but in the end, what had his job originally? It wasn't even considered a job at all. It was an interest, a hobby. A passion. Back in Saffron, his murderous escapades were as casual and exciting to him as painting was to Burgh, or as wrestling and brawling were to Bruno and Chuck and Brawly and Marshall. He lived for his murder, but what was it now? A chore, a bothersome task, an interruption skewering his time spent with Lily, Nana, all of his loved ones. He couldn't deny that he still loved the feel of the hunt, the tracking down, the research and the kill, but when the adrenaline faded from his mind, all he would feel is a small speck of hopelessness. After all, he had never killed anyone, nor had he even judged his mark to be worthy of death, on his own accord since his breakout two years ago. He was a tool, an instrument and behind all the hatred of his victims, the fabricated reasons behind his murders, the assurance that what he was being commanded to do was what he would've done himself, had he any choice… he was tired of murdering.

"Eye?" Jeff felt his hand tilt along with the apparition's head and realized he had been looking out into space, completely distracted, for several minutes now. He looked back down at the now confused Ghost and smiled, scratching the imp's chin to affirm that he was alright.

"Sorry, bud. Got distracted. Don't worry, Sid. We'll go to Nimbasa soon, promise. But you know, if I don't do this job, I'll be broke. And we can't exactly go running around the amusement park without any money, ya know." Jeff smiled. He then cleared his throat and returned to the solemn look he bore when he first was facing Sid's mischief. "So… did you actually complete your mission?"

Sid smiled – though less enthusiastically than before, no doubt still worried about his master's well-being – and flickered his eyes again, this time displaying the insides of the building, as well as crystal-clear views of its sides and back, all of them views inaccessible due to Jeff's angle and the security cameras placed on the building's exterior. Jeff didn't want his face showing up on any cameras close to both Burgh's Gym and his club. Even being seen by the hotel's camera was a risky venture, but Plasma's disguise for him wasn't simply a wig. It was also a surgical, facial reconstruction as well as a perfect replica of an identity, as though Chris Raymond was an actual person, complete with a memorized, faux backstory and paid Plasma actors and actresses to mimic his nonexistent parents.

"Ya know, buddy," he grinned, "with your invisibility and projector-eye-thingy, you make a one-in-a-million partner, you know that?"

Sid jumped up and down and shouted "Saaabe!" gleefully, which Jeff reasoned would've absolutely translated into "Yaaay!" in English. The stocky specter then jumped onto Jeff's torso and wrapped his arms around his stomach, interlocking his claws that met at his back. This sudden force pushed Jeff onto the ground, causing him to burst out laughing at the ghost's giddiness. He returned the favor with a noogie, though the sensation of doing it to someone that not only had hair, but had firm, smooth and flawless skin was a bit surreal. This quickly transformed Sid's giggling to full on howls of laughter as he loosened his grip and feebly tried covering his head with his hands in an attempt to protect them from the surely foreign feeling of having a human's knuckle vigorously rubbed against his head, though he definitely seemed to be enjoying it.

Jeff stood straight and brushed himself off, still donning a silly grin and breathing heavily, exhausted from their little play fight. "C'mon, Sid. Let's… whew! Let's go back to our apartment. You can lay down there and show me the projections in your sleep and I can sketch them there. You must be tired."

Though he didn't show any obvious signs of fatigue, Sid's posture slackened at the mention of rest. He looked up at Jeff and grinned before proceeding to go to the elevator that lead them to the hotel's roof. After he caught his breath, Jeff followed suit.

… … …

7 o' clock; the unveiling of Burgh's newest franchise had come. The sun had set a little over an hour ago, the winter solstice having passed only a month ago. A long, velvet carpet adorned with a lavender and crimson pattern was rolled across the walkway that connected the building's entrance to the street. A plethora of people, from normal citizens walking in from the street to famous Gym Leaders arriving via limousines, were ushering into the new establishment. The middle and upper class patrons were clearly distinguished. Boas and shoulderless dresses coupled with walking tuxedoes strolled in with a prim sense of superiority. Meanwhile, the partially unbuttoned long-sleeved shirts of stressed, overworked and underpaid office workers mingled with the jeans and t-shirts of the rebellious, insatiable teenagers in a scramble to their next dosage of dopamine, sweat and shamelessness. Disgusting, Jeff thought. They were rats, all of them. The energetic teenagers and weary businessmen, obviously, but the snooty, marching bourgeoisie were just the same, if not worse. A rat with pride and plentiful food is still a rat. Jeff sat on the windowsill of his hotel room, looking across the crowd, admiring what a large assortment of people Burgh had attracted. All the Gym Leaders and Elite Four Members that were open Poképhiles – whose ranks were Burgh, Elesa, the Striaton Brothers, Caitlin, Shauntal and Grimsley – mingled with one another in a big clump of celebrity sociality. They stood on the side, congratulating Burgh on his "daring venture into the 'entertainment business'", laughing and joking all the while. Jeff rolled his eyes at the happiness they were experiencing at others' expense and looked up at the side of the building where the metal box was. He then shifted his gaze to his watch, whose lively, metallic hands stated that the current time was already 7:33.

Jeff looked at his clock a second time; no way could that much time had already passed. But, as it had said before, the small hand was halfway to 8 already, the large hand trailing behind it. Jeff sighed and looked back at the metal box. Perhaps, he thought, it was a good thing that time was moving so quickly. He was starting to get impatient. Watching his prey's acquaintances and guests flock to the horrendous structure's entrance got dismal very fast and he soon longed for Sid's signal to go off. The plan for the two of them – or three of them, technically – was as follows. Jeff would exit his apartment at 6 o' clock PM, and simply go out on what appeared to be a stroll. During his walk, he would go to the least populated area he'd pass by and call out Sid from his Pokéball. He would then go invisible and float off to the Sexetorium, waiting atop the metal box on the side of the building. Once it was 7:45 PM, the doors to the Sexetorium would close and the party would start. That would be when Sid would open the metal box by force and cut the cables within it that controlled surveillance cameras, his invisibility keeping him from being detected by security before shutting them down. Once that happened, he would flash his bejeweled eyes, the light blue shine being perfectly visible as a glint from across the street, in the hotel. Once the signal was made, the second phase of their plan would begin. Jeff leaned his head against the window's frame and stared off into space. He hated how elaborate this had to be. He vaguely recalled Ghetsis's orders; a droning on about the terrible effect this club would have on Unova, as if he didn't know already, a statement saying Burgh needed to be made "an example of", and a harsh command not to kill anyone but the Gym Leader.

He quietly groaned at the thought of his restraints and returned his attention to his watch. The cold, metallic hands frankly told him that it was 7:43, so he hopped off the windowsill, stretching his arms to prepare for the next course of action, and fished a Pokéball out of his pocket. He opened the Pokéball and floating outside the window was a Musharna, her eyes permanently closed in an eternal semi-slumber. Jeff smiled and stretched his arm out in order to pet the feminine, sleeping monster. She purred at the warm feel of Jeff's soft, velvet gloves tracing over her forehead before contently mewling her name at her master. He snickered to himself and began petting her with both hands.

"Hey Yume. It's almost showtime. You ready?" The pink beast responded by floating closer to him and nuzzling against his torso, still emitting her usual purring sound. "Well, alright then. Wait here and tell me if the signal goes off. I'll be right back, 'kay?"

Yume nodded and turned around to observe the alleyway containing the power box. Jeff turned and slowly approached his suitcase, taking a deep breath before opening it. Within it were all of his personal items taken with him for the mission: notepad, pencils, binoculars, fake Trainer Card, the now empty roster that held Yume and Sid's Pokéballs. But it also had the more abnormal objects within his arsenal: a spotless, pressed gray suit jacket and dress pants with matching gray gloves and dress shoes, a very shiny set of brass knuckles, an antique, pocket-sized pistol, a hairnet and lastly… a mask. The mask was in the shape of the upper portion of a Zangoose's head, designed to over the face from the nose up. Its most curious trait of all, however, was its color. In all Zangoose, their primary color was white, while this mask instead was colored gray all over, albeit its left ear and the pattern over its left eye were still their usual crimson hue. Jeff took in another deep breath and exhaled completely with one foreboding sigh. The time had come. His biggest job yet was here. His greatest pride was soon to be earned. He quickly unbuttoned his usual black pinstripe jacket and pants to replace them with their dull gray replacements and neatly put the old outfit into the suitcase, straightening his tie whilst looking in the mirror after doing so. He then hurriedly placed the hairnet over his head, cleanly wrapping all of his hair into one out-of-the-way clump. Then, he stopped his quick movement and slowly dropped his hands to their side. He looked over at the mask lying in the suitcase, staring up at the wall with its hollow eye sockets. He didn't truly know WHY Team Plasma insisted on him wearing it, as well as the gray suit. He knew it was a symbol, representing The Gray Zangoose, the Poképhilia club that he tormented for a month back when he was in Saffron. Before killing was a chore. But he didn't see the point in it. Was it a simple gimmick? Was it something the sages heralded as a sacred symbol? It was simply a badly colored Pokémon, for Christ's sake. Everything had to be a sign or a procedure with them. Never any true pleasure in it, just-

"SHARNA!"

Jeff whirled around to see Yume jerking her head to the side to show the light-blue gleam that came from the alleyway to the right of the Sexetorium. And then… he felt different. Suddenly, all of his previous thoughts vanished. His disgust of Team Plasma, his query of the mask's purpose, all of it; it all simply disappeared at that moment. And yet, only after only a second's though, Jeff knew exactly why. It was simply the fact that the hunt began that sprang him to life, the fact that the time for action was now and that the time for idle thought was later that gave him this new feeling of vigor. With a chilling grin, Jeff grabbed the mask and confidently placed it against his head, pulling its elastic string to the back of his head. He then armed himself, placing his knife in his right pocket, his gun in his left, and his brass knuckles on his right hand. Finally, he shut his suitcase and ran to Yume at top speed, though making sure to gently touch her forehead when he arrived at the window. The two nodded at each other, and with a definitive "Let's go." and a short, pink flash of light that signaled teleportation, they were off to rendezvous with Sid.

When Jeff reopened his eyes, the pink flash was gone and he found himself on the roof of the Sexetorium, right in front of what looked like air vents. Sid was sitting on top of the one to the right, waiting for Jeff's command.

"Alright," Jeff started, "we don't have much time until security figures out that the camera are shut off. Sid, I need you to go down the air vent that leads to Burgh's private drawing room; that'd be the one you're sitting on. Once you get inside – as far through it as you can go without being noticed – use Reflect and hold it until you hear a knock on the air vent. Then, come outside. Sound good?"

Sid nodded eagerly, and with a final, definitive nod to both him and Yume, he gave his master and partner a toothy grin before his entire body became invisible, excluding his eyes and teeth. The eerie, disembodied face rushed down the air vent to the right and made a small noise of resonating energy. Jeff smiled and turned to Yume.

"Alright, Yume, you know what to do. Once I tell you to, stop deploying the dream mist and then you and Sid's part of the operation will almost be over. I'll call you back to your Pokéballs, call you out one last time to get Teleported home, and we'll be in the clear." He scratched her in between her nose. He knew she was nervous about the whole thing. She knew exactly what a risk they were taking and exactly how severe the punishment was. But, fortunately, her nervousness seemed to melt away with his gloves' gentle touch. "That doesn't sound all that bad, does it?"

Yume softly replied with her name and floated over to the left vent without a second thought. She then, without any hesitation, began pouring her dream mist into it, the size and intensity of her head's pink fog increasing several times over. In addition, Yume began to hum, most likely a method of concentration. She was, after all, knocking out the entire building, barring one special person. She needed to concentrate in order to create and release that much mist. As she did her job, Jeff leaned against the wall right next to the vent and glanced at his clock: 7:53. After a bit of thought, Jeff reckoned it'd take approximately five minutes for everyone to be out like a light, meaning the final phase of the plan would come into action at 7:58. It was almost odd how quickly things were going. By 8:30, about an hour after talking and laughing and so casually speaking with all of his friends, surely thinking this to be one of the best days of his life, Burgh would be lying face down in a pool of his own blood. And yet, Jeff thought, the entire plan would've changed completely had it not been for one innocent civilian. He grinned and closed his eyes, going back to a few days ago, when he was walking the streets in his normal, black pinstripe attire, gathering information about the upcoming party at Burgh's new gentlemen's club (though "gentlemen's" club would be an erroneous name, seeing as the common woman was just as interested in Poképhilia as the common man). He came across one, rather amusing character while exploring the back alleys of Castelia. While he expected to find thugs, vermin, rapists and murderers, he instead found a very lighthearted person: a dancer. He had light brown skin and hair that was slightly darker and styled into dreadlocks. He wore white jeans and shoes, a green shirt and had a green jacket wrapped around his waist. He seemed to be taking a break, leaning against the least filthy part of the alley wall in a slumped posture, happily drinking from a water bottle. Beads of sweat were clearly visible on the man's forehead, but despite his fatigue, he seemed completely carefree. The man noticed Jeff's presence and looked over at him, his face breaking into a brilliant, pure-white smile.

"'Ey, mon," he said casually, "ya seem lost. Perhaps I know da place yer lookin' fer?"

Jeff smiled back to him and politely shook his head. "No, no, I'm not lost. I was just asking around about something. Apparently, there's a big uproar about this city's Gym Leader… like, he's making a new building or something? I think that was it…"

"Hehe, outsider, eh?" Jeff sheepishly nodded. "'Ey, eese fine, mon. Lotsa people come 'ere from all over Unova. Not bein' a local ain't nothin' to be ashamed of. As fer Burgh – dat's our Gym Leader – he's formin' a new Poképhile club over on 57th and 86th, by da Weary Wingull 'otel."

"O-oh." Jeff cleared his throat and looked away. "Sounds like fun for him."

"Heh, that's just eet, mon. He ain't gonna be parteecipatin' in 'is own party." Jeff's head locked back into looking at the dancer, this time genuinely confused. "Ya, dat's right. All da men n' ladies n' Pokémon'll be havin' foon down on the first floor, but Burgh'll be in his private art room. He says he be fond of drawin' 'da passion between human and Pokémon displayed during eentimate moments', but eef ya ask me, he just like drawing porno eese all."

"So wait, he'll be sitting by himself while all of that's going on?"

The dancer nodded. "Dat's right, mon. Hees private room'll have a big-ass, clear window where he'll get to see all the, er... 'partyin''. It'll just be heem, hees canvas and a shit-ton a paint. Though, I hear eese pretty posh for a room just for heem. Even has eet's own air conditioning."

"I see… well, thanks for the info. If it's okay to ask… how do you know all this info?"

"Well, mon, the thing eese, if you haven't guessed already, I'm one a dem Poképhiles." He shrugged, his face donning a silly grin. "Been in love with me Simipour fer years now."

Jeff smiled politely. "Well, I'm very happy for the two of you and I hope you have fun. I jjust wanted to know what the big deal was around here. Thanks for letting me in on it."

"No problem, mon."

Jeff, or more accurately, the one on top of Burgh's Sexetorium, looked at his watch: 7:57. Show time. Jeff knocked on the air vent, signaling Yume to stop releasing Dream Mist and for Sid to come outside. Once the grinning ghoul poked his head out of the vent's entrance, Jeff brought out two Pokéballs and called them back.

"You did a fine job." He warmly said to them as they were enveloped in a red light. Once they were sealed, Jeff grabbed onto the top of the air vent and with one leap, entered the air vent, starting a bumpy, but somewhat exhilarating slide down to Burgh's private room. He straightened his posture as he feel straight down and slammed his entire body, foot-first, through the vent's cover and landed on the floor. And there he was: his marked man. The artist was away from his canvas and was instead standing in front of the massive window. He was staring at the large amount of pink mist in the main room below them, though most of it was already diffusing. When the haze cleared, an almost humorous sight emerged. Humans and Pokémon were scattered all across the room, lying down on the floor in what would be a lengthy comatose. Some of the humans had their pants down; no doubt having already gotten started on the fun by the time the mist entered the vicinity. Burgh turned around, looking at Jeff with a solemn, almost tired gaze.

"Who the hell are you? And why are you ruining my party?" He said sharply.

"I'm wearing a mask, you idiot." Jeff spat back. "Usually, that means I don't want people to know who I am. As for what my plan is," he brandished his knife and twirled it between his fingers, gaudily and rapidly changing which two digits were holding it in place, "I'll give you three guesses what I'm here to do."

Immediately, Burgh's face went from solemn, tired and angry to pale, tired and fearful. "Wh-what? Kill me? But… why? What would you possibly have to gain from killing me? Are you… are you a challenger I defeated that's bitter and wants revenge? Because, if that's true, I'd be happy to take you into my Gym as a Gym Trainer and give lessons. We can be civil about th-"

"No, Burgh," Jeff cut him off, walking a bit closer, "this is the first time we've met in person. In a way, I suppose you could say you've never actually harmed me or even interacted with me in any way, shape, or form during your entire life."

"Then WHY would you want to kill me?" He asked, in an interesting mix of fear and rage.

"Because, Burgh, you're the bad kind of Poképhile. Not the kind of Poképhile that keeps to himself and develops a relationship with his partner or partners, oh no." Jeff glared daggers at his prey through his mask, the urge to kill him beginning to rise. "Take this entire club, for example; a filthy nest of stolen sighs and gasps of pleasure, a shrine of stolen innocence. Where do all of these Pokémon come from, Burgh? Do they just fall out of the sky, immediately trained? They couldn't be wild, even if caught with a Pokéball, it would take far too long for a Pokémon to be comfortable with strangers, and even longer when they're being forced to do… things like this."

"They're donated," He said angrily, "From trainers that admire my cause, to capture the passionate love between human and Pokémon on canvas, and I will NOT stand for being accused of kidnapping and rape."

"Donated? Are you shitting me?" Jeff hemmed. "Who in their right mind would donate – which, by the way is a euphemism for 'give away' – their Pokémon so that they could get fucked and drawn by a stranger? You say it's 'benefitting a worthy cause', but do you know what I see it as? I see it through the eyes of the Pokémon, one that's had so many life experiences and adventures with his trainer. The two of them, they must have gone through so much, conquered so many, for them to be so close. And then, the trainer, the person that Pokémon trusted the most, what does he decide to do?"

Burgh looked down silently, his fluffed up hair drooping down and covering his face. Jeff continued anyways, advancing closer to his mark. "He gives him away. He gives him away to YOU… and for what reason? 'Capturing passion'? As if a drawing a human and Pokémon fucking creates some kind of spiritual enlightenment or is some kind of masterpiece. In the end, it's nothing but carnal pleasure for you and the human involved. So, you happily take any Pokémon given to you, any at all. Though, knowing how establishments tend to have 'financial problems', I'm sure within the next few years, there'll be a fee for sexually enslaving your Pokémon. Because, after all, sex and profit do go great together… don't they, Burgh?"

"So, what," Burgh began, "any place that gathers a bunch of Poképhiles to have fun is automatically filled with rapists? You're JUST like that crazy bastard from that Saffron fiasco a few years ago: a delusional, self-righteous lunatic. You can not like what we do and you can even despise every last Poképhile on the face of the Earth, but if you're going to kill us just because our way of life doesn't agree with you, then you are truly close-minded and lost."

"You speak as if Pokémon are just like us. Look at the time of year, Burgh. It's Winter. Right in the middle of it, too. Pokémon aren't like us, they can't just fuck whenever they feel like it. They have 'mating seasons', they have internal calendars telling them when and when not to breed. There is only ONE substance on this planet that can change that. Rastamine – a chemical found in the fermented fruits of Tropius eaten by endangered species of Pokémon in order to activate the hormones within their body that start widespread mating. You purchase this chemical, place it in drinks or even injections and drug all the Pokémon here until they don't even know who the fuck they are anymore, and proceed to exploit them, like right now. And I'll tell you something: that man in Saffron, he had the right idea. And I sincerely hope that he's still thinking up ways to put an end to you sick individuals, just as I'm about to put an end to you."

Burgh replied only by whirling around and bashing his fists against the glass, knocking desperately. "WAKE UP! WAKE UP! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WAKE-"

Bang. Smoke exited the barrel of Jeff's gun. A small, red hole in Burgh's clothes formed on his right shoulder blade. He slowly turned back around to face Jeff and fell to his knees, clutching his fresh wound with his now shaking hand. Jeff silently walked up to the Gym Leader, who was now gasping in pain at the gunshot wound. He picked up the man by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to the side before slamming him against the wall, pinning him against it. He then pushed him upward until the Gym Leader was staring him in the face, his legs dangling limply from his body. Then, without a word, without a single insult, Jeff pocketed his gun, switched the hand that was holding Burgh, and began mercilessly punching him in the face. Each slam against the Gym Leader's head earned Jeff a sickening, yet satisfying crunch, every thrust of his arm fracturing some bone or piece of cartilage. Every time Jeff drew his arm back, the Bug Trainer's fair face had reappeared more bloody and broken, his perfect, feminine hair becoming more tangled and ruined with every flash of gray that bashed against his skull. Finally, when his assailant grew tired of punching him, he was let go of and immediately fell to the floor, blood and sweat tainting its once pure-white color. His body was now limp, limbs haphazardly angled and his face lying on its side. A small trail of blood trickled downward from the corner of his mouth, as well as from the several gashes made by Jeff's brass knuckles. The assassin flipped his victim's body over, studying his handiwork. His right cheek sagged, probably due to a broken cheekbone, while his left one was alarmingly swollen, puffy and red. His eyes were hidden by both a bulbous, swollen brow and a pain-driven squint, reacting to the sting of dripping sweat and blood rolling down his forehead as he was beaten. His lips were cut by the knuckles, but still retained their size, though they were dwarfed by his cheeks and brow. The tiny lips quivered as he was dragged up from his feet yet again, stuttering words that clumsily escaped from his deformed face.

"Y-you w-w-won't g-get aw-w-way w-with this." Jeff clutched his knife, but suddenly, an idea formed in his head. He pocketed his knife, as it seemed he wouldn't need it. He had just the thing. He yanked Burgh by his collar as means to get him closer, his ears now only inches away from his attacker's lips.

"I know that, in the end, I'll never be able to die peacefully. I'll pay for what I've done in due time." He grasped Burgh's stomach with his free hand and heaved him up into the air, carrying his limp body with all of his might, gritting his teeth as he gave his target his final words. "But YOU. You'll pay for what you've done RIGHT. NOW!"

And with that, Jeff tossed Burgh against the window with every ounce of strength he had. The Gym Leader's body crashed through the glass, sending shards of it flying in several directions, all of them out into the crowd of people. Jeff only stood there, slumping as he panted, the lift and toss taking a lot out of him. When he heard the thump that signified his body hitting the ground, a smile was all he could reply with. He sauntered to the shattered window and looked over to see the damage. Burgh was sprawled on the floor; a large splatter of burgundy surrounded his mangled body. On closer inspection, judging by the terribly obtuse angle of his head, the man had landed head-first, breaking his neck and killing him instantly. There was no doubt about it: Burgh was dead. It was in that moment, at that exact second, Jeff felt a wave of ecstasy, not because of how he killed, but WHO he killed. Burgh was a giant; a terrible artist and a total fruit, but still a giant, respected by his peers and feared by any unwary challengers. Not only was he a giant in battling, but also in Poképhilia. The days preceding his trip to Castelia, Jeff did some research on his target. Apparently, he donated more money to Poképhilia companies more than any other Gym Leader or Elite Four member, and even more interesting, was the only one that donated to corporations that domesticate and sell rastamine. Burgh, in a way, was the central pillar to the scum that abused and practically raped Pokémon. And now he was dead. At that moment, Jeff felt like the mighty Brutus, towering over the God of Rome's corpse, almost to the point where he wanted to scream, "LIFE, LIBERTY AND ENFRANCHISEMENT!" But he had no time for such silliness. Now was the time to go, to bask in his victory at home. He called out Yume and nodded at her, wordlessly informing her that the plan was executed without a hitch. Relieved, Yume sighed and floated towards her master. He calmly placed his hand against her forehead and closed his eyes. And with a flash of pink light, they were gone just as quickly as they came.


	4. UPDATE!

Hello, everyone. This is Skarrmory, here to give you a bit of an update, rather than a new chapter. I'm sorry if the notification gave you high hopes that I have briefly shot down. I just thought you deserved to know that **I have NOT given up on Legacy, nor have I given up on Pokemon fics in general!** I simply had to go through a lot of IRL things, including moving twice, getting ready for college, and being in the hospital for a bit. So it's been a rough year, of which I couldn't get even the slightest bit of inspiration for these fanfictions.

Before I start on the next chapter, however, I've decided to **go back and refurbish both Saffron and the earlier chapters of Legacy**. Nothing major, just some grammar and spelling corrections, as well as possibly retconning a scene in Saffron altogether (trust me, it was unnecessary and idiotic in the first place). I'm not doing this to postpone Legacy, but I just plain _have_ to do this, in order to follow up in a satisfactory manner. It's been so long since I've crawled into Jeff's mind that I need to go back through the story in order to get back into that mindset. And why not do some touch-ups on the way?

In any case, I don't know how many of you have given up on me and this story. I honestly can't blame you; it's been over a year, after all, and my reasons can seem like excuses to any disappointed fan. I should have tried harder to get back into the game and I sincerely apologize for not having done so. But I will absolutely finish this story because it's something I owe to myself, if to no one else. I hope the chapters and stories to come make up for my unannounced hiatus.

Your faithful writer,

~Skarrmory


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